


December 10: with one horse, soap, and sleigh

by dizzy



Series: 2017 (the darkest timeline) daily fic advent [10]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: prompt:I don’t know you but you’re singing along really loudly near me at this concert and it’s kinda hilarious because you just make up things when you don’t know the words





	December 10: with one horse, soap, and sleigh

The air is crisp and cold, the cider Chris is sipping is both spiced and spiked, and the musical group that he paid quite a number of pretty pennies to see live are singing their hearts out on a stage staggeringly close to him. 

It should be the perfect night. He's even got the perfect company, the best friend he hasn't seen in almost six months who flew in just in time for Chris to gift her with this audible experience as a Christmas present. 

What does money matter if you can't buy ridiculously overpriced VIP tickets for a capella internet sensations? Nothing, in his opinion. 

*

Except - 

_"In the meadow we can build a snowman, then pretend that he is sparse and brown."_

Except the guy beside Chris is definitely drunk and he's definitely not shy and he's definitely not the type of person with consideration for how much everyone else paid for concert tickets to hear someone who _definitely_ isn't him perform. 

*

Chris is known for his withering looks. They're practically infamous. He can reduce an uppity editor to meekness with a cut of his eyes. He can send sales people in a store scattering, attempts at upselling dead before leaving their lips. He can even cut of his mother mid-rant if he really chooses to, though for the sake of long-term self-preservation of their relationship he generally chooses not to. 

But there must be something in the air, some sinister undercurrent masked beneath the festive spirit because it... it fails. 

It utterly fails. 

His best glare! And - nothing. 

Nothing, except this jackass giving him a massive smile and saying, "Loosen up, man!" Before launching back into an obnoxious version of Winder Wonderland where he loudly and proudly belts out, " _Walking in your winter underwear!_ " 

*

Ashley leans over. 

"He's hot. You should go stand by him." 

"What?" Chris gapes at her. 

"You're totally checking him out, don't like." 

"I was not- he's being annoying!" 

"Uh huh, but did you see that ass?" 

"I did not," Chris huffs. "And I will not." 

*

What else won't Chris do? 

Chris won't loosen up. 

Just on principle of not adhering to the advice of drunken idiots whose name he doesn't even know, he will not. 

Who is this guy to tell Chris what he needs to do? He doesn't know Chris. He doesn't know Chris's life. Chris loosens up plenty. He went to that one party - that was - that party - 

Okay, maybe that was two months ago. But he has board game nights with his friends regularly and sometimes they even do shots when they play. Not usually, because most of them have to drive home, and they all generally prefer getting to bed at normal hours. But they still drink while they play. That counts. 

And he relaxes, too! He gets weekly massages. And maybe his massage therapist tells him every single week that Chris is singlehandedly the most tense guy he's ever known, but most people don't have a constant cycle of writing and revision and book tours and tens of thousands of insert pages to autograph on a deadline and-

 _Shit_ , he thinks. 

_I need to loosen up._

*

Obnoxious Guy Who Doesn't Know the Lyrics disappears for a blissful half a rendition of Good to be Bad before he makes his way back to the front. Instead of taking the spot he'd been at before he shoulders in right beside Chris. 

"Here," he says, handing Chris an unopened hard cider. "I know it's not what you're drinking now, but I wanted to get you a can so you don't think I'm like, drugging you or anything." 

"Uh." Chris takes the can, confused. "What?" 

"I mean, not that I'd try to drug you. But I figured, you look like a smart guy, you wouldn't take an open drink-" 

"You're right, I wouldn't," Chris says. "But why are you giving me a drink?" 

"An apology? You looked kind of fed up with my singing." The guy laughs. "I'm Darren, by the way." 

Darren is, it seems, not quite as drunk as Chris had thought. 

He's also cuter than Chris had thought. 

He feels an elbow dig into his side and decides it's a good time to ignore Ashley.

"Oh. Well, thanks," Chris says, offering a small smile. Darren beams back at him and settles in, shoulder pressing against Chris's. He doesn't seem to show much inclination toward moving back to where he'd been before. 

Chris is... okay with that.

*

(And they live together happily ever after, except for every Christmas when they fight for six weeks on end about Darren's inability to remember that there are partridges (not cartridges) in a pear tree (not a pantry), that Santa's list involves _checking it twice_ not _chicken and rice_ , and many other variations upon the theme of: _those are not the fucking words_.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com)! or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/alittledizzy)! or don't! your choice! happy holidays!


End file.
